Deuces Wild

by Christina C Jones

  Not that sex was automatically some deeply emotional thing for me – in fact, an emotional connection was rare.

  Super rare.

  As in, only happened once, rare.

  As in, sex had always been physically gratifying, but something about that first night, when I was already emotionally keyed up, simply looking for a release, he’d given me… something else. Something deeper, that I didn’t understand, and wasn’t sure I wanted to when it had me feeling like I did.

  What kind of dick sorcery is this?

  There had to be some sort of wizardry involved, to take me from barely tolerating Cree’s presence to not running away screaming at him suggesting he and I as parents to a child he’d fathered with one of the very few people I considered a friend.

  It was craziness.

  The exact kind of craziness that I rolled my eyes about in those goddamn romance books, but just like when I’d had that overwhelming urge to protect him after Vivica’s death, I suddenly understood. He’d given me a taste of the kind of connection I’d read about, made love to me like we were in love, understood me, somehow, without me having to spell every little thing out, and he just made me feel… normal.

  And just like he’d pointed out… I wasn’t ready to let that go.

  Not so easily.

  I took my time in the shower, even though I knew he’d be waiting for me. Exfoliated, washed my hair, wore a sheet mask while I rubbed my soothing scented lotion in.

  In my room afterward, I pulled out my standard uniform of leggings and a flowy tank top, then opted instead for a simple little tee shirt dress, that I wasn’t expecting to cling to my body like it did. Standing in the mirror, with my hair out like I knew Cree liked it, in an unintentionally sexy dress, I rolled my eyes at myself.

  “Who the hell are you?” I muttered, posing the question to my reflection.

  Too bad neither of us had an answer.

  I contemplated changing again, but didn’t. Instead, I padded out of my room on bare feet, following the sound of things being moved around in my kitchen. There, I found Cree –shirtless and still a little wet from his shower, basketball shorts slung low on his hips - rummaging in my refrigerator, pulling out Tupperware bowls of chopped vegetables. The scent of whatever he’d showered with met me as I approached, adding another layer of appeal to the visual in front of me.

  A fantasy.

  “Well,” I spoke up, getting his attention. “You seem to have made yourself quite comfortable.”

  Peeking from behind the refrigerator door, he grinned. “You were gone for a while. I got hungry. You hungry?”

  I shrugged. “I could eat. But um… what exactly are you looking for?”

  “A pork chop or something.”

  “Oh,” I laughed. “Well, I can’t help you there, unfortunately. I don’t have anything here that isn’t plant-based.”

  He let the refrigerator swing closed, giving me a deadpan stare. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I shook my head. “No. Sorry.”

  He groaned, then finally turned my way to really look at me, and that dour expression of his turned to one of… wonderment.

  “What?” I asked, shifting under his scrutiny. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Because you are fine as hell,” he said, very matter-of-factly, breaking from his moment of awe to stride toward me. I blushed as his hands went immediately to my waist, drawing me against his bare chest. He dipped his head, leaning to speak into my ear. “And because I like to take a moment to study my food before I eat it.”

  “We’re supposed to be talking,” I whimpered, my body responding very immediately to Cree’s lips against my neck and hands gripping my ass with hard nipples and an ache between my legs. I shook that off though – there were more important things to address than a budding relationship and raging libidos.

  Like my sister.

  “Finding Dacia is the whole reason we connected… remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” he said, looking sufficiently remorseful as he let me go, taking a step back. “My bad.”

  “Our bad,” I corrected. “We’ve been… a little distracted. But this is important. And urgent.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. So… let’s get to it.”

  “Okay,” I told him, taking a seat at the counter. “Tell me what you know.”

  “I know that… you were born Alicia Pelletier. Daughter of Adam and Tonya Pelletier. Tonya passed away, when you were little. Cancer. Adam remarried, to a woman named—”

  “Paloma,” I supplied, and he nodded.

  “Yes. Paloma is Dacia’s mother. The home invasion, where your father was killed… it’s still unsolved. But Paloma was left for dead, and you and your sister were taken – and as of six years ago, presumed dead.”

  “But obviously we’re not.”

  “Right. And my thinking is, this plays into this whole Collective thing somehow.”

  “So you’ve figured out what that is?”

  Again, he nodded. “The info about your family is from Willow, and she’s still digging further. For The Collective, I reached out to my brother Naim, who works with Interpol. The Collective is absolutely on their radar, and according to him, they’re like a group of criminals – politicians, business owners, CEOs included – who scratch each other’s backs, keep each other out of jail, etc.”

  “No wonder Maxim and Sebastian want in… and no wonder the Belroses are still in operation.”

  “Right. So… with what we know about the attack… do you think maybe the Belroses were behind it? And that’s how you and Dacia ended up with them?”

  I blew out a sigh. “It’s definitely possible. But why? If my father was part of The Collective, why would they have touched him? And if he wasn’t… what was the reason for this?”

  “That’s something we still don’t know. And… there’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Yeah. My captain… Captain Santiago. He’s supposedly on Maxim and Sebastian’s payroll. They aren’t even looking into Vivica’s death.”

  Cree was standing opposite me, leaning back into the counter on that side of the kitchen. As he spoke about his boss and slain partner, I noticed the change in his tone. Not that any of this was easy to talk about, but that last part… it pained him.

  He’d never struck me as the kind of cop who was oblivious to the issues with law enforcement. If I started a conversation about brutality right now, I was fairly confident he’d be on the right side of, was sure that he wasn’t the type to turn a blind eye, etc. He wasn’t naïve, he just wanted to believe that he and his peers were capable of doing some good in the world, despite the prevalence of those who didn’t share the same mission.

  Some were committed to violence, oppression, and corruption.

  Unfortunately, it seemed like his captain – a man he’d probably looked up to, and admired, was one of those.

  “Cree…,” I said, dreading the words I was about to say. “I… I don’t know if this makes it worse, or makes it better, but… if you’re looking for direct justice for Vivica’s death… it’s not going to happen. They’ll never connect that gun directly to anybody, and the Belroses employ – enslave – way too many for you to get a name, or anything like that. That person has probably already been dispatched to their next mission… their next kill. I understand wanting someone to pay, but… I’d advise you to let go of that.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Yeah, that’s… easier said than done.”

  “I know. And I know it sucks, but… this is the plane they operate on. If we’re going to get Dacia, and if we’re going to survive this, we have to start thinking like them. And we have to be careful.”

  Cree nodded. “We do. That’s why I snuck in here with the gym bag… They’re onto you. Well, not you specifically, but they have your description, and know you’re connected to me. I never put your name in my reports, but with the phone call, and the description from Roach, and the description from the
people who caught a look at you in the club…”

  “It’s only a matter of time,” I sighed. “As soon as Santiago goes to Sebastian with it, he’s going to know it’s me. Maybe it won’t connect immediately… maybe he didn’t know Dacia was alive last time we ran into each other.”

  “Maybe. But still.”

  “I know. I’ve already taken a leave of absence from the business, so I don’t really have anywhere to be. I’ll lay low.”

  “Thank you. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, pushing off from the counter to approach me again. I wanted to ask how he was coping with everything but it wasn’t necessary – the stress, trauma, and pain were all evident in his eyes. But there was something else there too – something I didn’t have the tools to define, but warmed me down to my toes. “Is this okay now?” he asked, returning his hands to my waist. “Can I do this?”

  “Is this all that’s on your mind?”

  “Not all.” He squeezed a little as he drew me closer. “I know we’re dealing with high stakes here. So what do you suggest we do next?”

  “Snatch Maxim or Sebastian off the street and beat them until they tell me where Dacia is, and hand her over.”

  Cree chuckled. “Yeah… I’m thinking that should probably be last resort.”

  “Because that’s your nature. To think it through, and have a drink and think some more.”

  “And your “assault first, ask questions later” aesthetic is better?”

  I smirked. “Hasn’t failed me yet. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, and so am I,” he countered. “So what we’re gonna do is just… be easy. Wait for Willow to get back to us, so that whenever we do move, we do it with the most possible information.”

  Tipping my head back, I met his eyes. “Are you telling, or suggesting?”

  “Telling. Is that a problem?”

  He didn’t back down from my glare – in fact, the teasing glint in his eyes basically dared me to challenge him, which was usually all I needed to declare war.

  But war wasn’t what I wanted.

  I had enough chaos going on.

  I trusted Cree’s judgment.

  “No,” I told him, shaking my head. “It’s not a problem.”

  I almost laughed at the surprise that registered on his face, but bit my lip instead to hold it back. A moment later, I was biting my lip for a whole different reason as his hands drifted down, then back up, underneath my dress to cup my ass.

  “What about this?” he asked. “This a problem?”

  “Uh-uh,” I told him, letting my eyelids flutter closed as his hot palms traveled further, up to my bare breasts.

  “And this?”

  “Nope.”

  A low groan slipped from me as his lips brushed my neck, then under my chin, trailing my jaw up to my ear. “Do I even need to ask?”

  “No,” I giggled, looping my arms around him to press my fingertips into the firm muscles of his back. A sharp gasp of pleasure escaped my throat as his tongue met my skin, flicking and teasing as he dropped a hand to invade the confines of my panties. He licked me again, in tandem with the pressing of his thumb to my clit and the sinking of his fingers into me. My stomach clenched as his teeth dug into my flesh, blunted by the warm rasp of his tongue and warm suction of his mouth.

  “Alicia,” he murmured into my neck, punctuating it with a kiss before he brought his mouth back to my ear. “I hope you understand, I wasn’t playing about my intentions to devour you.”

  I shook my head. “No, Cree. I was counting on it.”

  There it was.

  His invitation to lead me to my bedroom and do whatever the hell he wanted with me, and I would’ve been a willing participant. As it turned out, his interest lied in stripping me out of my dress and panties, leaving me completely bared for his eyes as he moved to the end of the bed.

  He started with my toes.

  Kissing, sucking each one, then pressing his lips to the arch of my foot, then my heel, then my ankle, up my calf to the sensitive spot at the back of my knee before giving the same attention to the other side.

  He climbed on top of me, taking my hands to kiss my fingers and palms, trailing his tongue up the bend of my arm, kissing my armpit to make me laugh. Teasing bites across my shoulder, flicks of his tongue across my collarbone, quick, hard sucks all over my neck that would probably leave marks.

  And then, his soft, insistent lips against my pliant ones, his tongue against mine, his nose against mine as he leaned into me, whispering silly shit that made me laugh some more. His teeth, nibbling at my earlobes, and then his lips against my neck again, down my chest, and then his hands cupping my breasts, and his hot mouth on my nipples.

  Back and forth.

  Teasing and taunting me with little bites that skirted the edge of pleasure and pain, and then sucking to make it better.

  I closed my eyes – I didn’t need to see, just needed to feel.

  The certainty of his fingers as he pinched and squeezed my nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make me squirm and moan. The impishness of his tongue as he flicked it down my torso, over my belly button, then lower. The gentle confidence of his hands as they spread my thighs apart. The cruelty of his lips as they touched me everywhere – the inside of my thighs, the crease of my legs, the mound of my pelvis – except where I was desperate, at this point, to be touched.

  It was torture, really, but so sweet that I didn’t dare complain – just whimpered my dual disappointment and pleasure as he kissed me nearly everywhere he could reach, and then finally spread me open with his thumbs.

  He wanted to lose himself there.

  That was the only explanation I could come up with – not that one was needed – for how eagerly Cree buried his face between my legs. His hands came to my ass, gripping and holding me in place as he did things with his tongue that had my legs moving like a revved motor. I hooked my thighs over his shoulders and pulled him in deeper, caring very little about whether or not he could breathe. It was a lack of care we had in common, apparently, based on the gratified growl he let out before he started sucking harder, licking deeper, moved one of his hands to bury two fingers deep in me, pushing and stroking and… making me come completely undone.

  After my orgasm, I sank into the bed, waiting for my limbs to get back their feeling. Before that could happen though, Cree had spread my legs wide again, positioning himself between them to sink into me, filling me to the brim, perfectly.

  Perfectly.

  I opened my eyes just long enough to meet his, just in time for us to share a slow, satisfied grin as he began to move in me. Very, very quickly, that grin transformed to my mouth hanging open as I tried in vain to catch my breath as he stroked me.

  Harder.

  Deeper.

  Faster.

  I hooked my legs around his waist, and he went deeper. He moved them from there to his shoulders, and went deeper. He pulled them from his shoulders, grabbing me at the ankles to push my feet up by my ears as he angled himself on top of me and went even deeper, so much that all my moans and purrs had devolved to incoherent, indescribable sound as he plunged into my depths.

  With his hardness buried in me, he covered my mouth with his, devouring me with the kind of kiss that meant… more than a kiss.

  I hoped.

  But, I didn’t have too much time to process it, because the next thing I knew, I was coming, and so was he, and at that moment, I couldn’t think about anything.

  But I felt everything.

  And not just physically.

  Afterward, when he pulled me tight in his arms after we’d fallen back on the bed, exhausted, I knew something had changed. Not that I had the vocabulary to identify it, but something between us felt different… in a good way.

  And this time… I didn’t feel a single urge to push the feeling away.

  TWELVE

  It was probably a bad idea to get used to waking up with Cree in my bed.

  I
had a distinct sense of déjà vu as I pulled myself into a seated position as he still slept, stretched across my bed like it belonged to him. He was completely nude – not even boxers – and the sight of him standing at full attention this morning woke up the same craving as the last time I’d had a day start like this.

  Only, last time I was agitated with him for making me want him.

  This time?

  I was giving in to the feeling.

  Before I could move though, he did, turning over to his side to grip my thigh, with his eyes still closed. I grinned as he shifted across the bed to bring his mouth to my hip, kissing me there once and then doing it again as he hooked his arm around my thigh.

  “Good morning to you too,” I said, but didn’t get a verbal reply.

  Instead, he responded by burying his face right where I was sitting so he could playfully nip my butt cheek, then bring his lips north, up my side, over my shoulder, until his mouth was at my neck.

  “I’m about to make it even better.”

  He backed up that statement by slipping his hand between my legs, burying his fingers in wetness that had started before he was even awake.

  “Mmmmm,” I groaned, opening my legs a little more and tipping my head to the side to expose my neck, giving him better access to both places. His arm slipped around me, secure and comfortable as he pulled me down to the bed with him, then urged me to lift my leg so that he could sink into me from behind. Another gratified moan left my throat as he filled me, and pushed my hair out of the way to kiss the back of my neck. He kept his hand pressed to my clit, making the kind of fast, firm circles that had me biting the pillow to keep from screaming my appreciation for the whole building to hear as he stroked me.

  “Get that shit out of the way,” he growled into my ear, pulling it away from me and tossing it off the side of the bed. He shifted positions, leaving me on my side as he hooked his arm around my leg, lifting my foot up to his shoulder as he delved into me from a different, deeper angle. “I wanna hear you. Let it out.”